


Changing Tides

by trevbox



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:05:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trevbox/pseuds/trevbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dualscar and Mindfang, scourges of the FLARPing seas. The two fall a little too deep, with one two many enemies at the brink of their adventures. It’s all fun and games when you play pir8tes, that is until someone ensares you in their g8me for their own revenge. EriVris, redrom/moirail flirtations</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing Tides

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Kid slavery shit ahead, as well as torture bs, reenactment of a lot of piratey themes from a child troll’s perspective taken waaaaay too far. Will upd8 with developments as story progresses.
> 
> A/N: I really would like to continue this, but I need very serious critique and consideration to really move forward in terms of writing and ebb and flow within the context of the story. I’m not sure how fast this will be updated, if at all, it really depends on how happy I am with the progression. 
> 
> Anyone willing to take the time to give insight into what could be improved upon would be really phenomenal. My goals are to get into the nature of Eridan and Vris’s relationship, as well as get a better overall insight into the kid troll culture and how much of a significant impact FLARPing has had in painting cycles of revenge, sociology, and a bunch of other nerdyass troll culture crap. Oh and the idea of redrom/moirallegiance between Eridan and Vriska just really entices me for some weird reason. Apologies on punctuation in Eridan’s speech, it’s waaaay too hard to not involve that along the line of third person writing. >:/

The darkness painted across the field in a low, black film, obscuring all measure of brush and animal that might be lurking just further into the reaches of foliage and tree. A purple dusk struck across the sky, waves of shifting colors spilling over long catches of wheat and grass, between tree and shadow, the slithers and hiss of wild beasts snuffing through the brush in every which direction.

 

This world, Alternia, was dangerous at any time, but particularly at the steep of night. You were either the predator or the prey in the wild grasps of the wilderness, and without proper protection, proper intuition, and the wits to overcome the obstacles faced out in front of you - you were as good as dead.

 

Vriska, a near to teen troll female in earth standards, drug her feet against the skips of dirt, a splinter of a smirk shining across the tainted yellow splashed, thick and vivid, across her face. Grey skin pulled at that smile, teeth glittering in the twilight of both moons; the young female humming a small tune of triumph just beneath her breath. Beside her - another figure, hobbling slightly in the shadow while nurturing a very large gun; looking mighty sore about something or another. What could it be? That was honestly for Vriska to know, and for Vriska to privately poke fun at.

 

“What a wonderful camp8gn, Dualscar.” She snipped, all cheer and robust, confident in her stride. The boy beside her, fin like ears dropped in some amount of indignation, scowled.

 

“thats easy for you to say, mindfang” He quipped, moping slightly at the scuff of dirt patted beneath them. “ya didnt havve to watch your ship sink”

 

A bark of uproarious laughter escaped from Vriska’s lips, grinning a small fanged smile in her companion’s direction. “Yeeeeeeeeah, that was pretty gr8, wasn’t it.” She surmised, fondly, reminiscent of the action packed events that had taken place just prior. “8ut don’t worry, Dualscar! I happen to know of quite the mechanic that can help us out.” The assurance came with a hearty pat on the shoulder, those fangs glistening even wider against the reflection of soft light transcending from the sky. Dualscar, or more accurately, Eridan, did not seem all too impressed. The scowl seemed to droop into something even less heartening, shoulders slumping forward in some amount of defeat as he gave the other a rather dead panned look.

 

“oh right a course, the great and mighty blue blood land dwweller... vvris wwe both know he aint gonna do squat for helping rebuild a damn thing.” Vriska would have to admit. She did like being the one to swoop in and save her companion’s ass from time to time, particularly when it involved being so damn heroic about it. And particularly when she got to needle him over it later. She shrugged, aloof and at pleasant peace with herself, and their adventures, not seeming too troubled by this particular point.

 

“Oh, he owes me one. I’m sure I can convince him to work on all the technical aspects of that he8p pile you call a ship! Hahahahah.” The amused, flash of a smile remained firmly in place, a good natured sing song esque tone spreading like melted butter from her tongue to spatter across Eridan’s face. Appropriately, he gives her another distasteful look, nose scrunching in a not all too convinced nature.

 

“better not sabotage it…” was really the only muttered reply, at which the girl raised both brows, nudging the fellow pre-teen gently in the ribs with another wide, sparkling grin.

 

“Oh, will you stop moping! So you lost this one, 8ig deeeeeeeal!” Another playful jab awarded her with yet another distasteful, mopish glance, though to her small amount of triumph, it was perhaps a bit less disheveled than was previous. When it came to Eridan, she would take whatever weedling amounts of good nature and charm she could get. It was always something of an exalted accomplishment to pester the boy from moping self indulgence to a more confident, go get ‘em attitude. Spindling that web, pulling at the strings, knowing she had that ability was more than enough of an award when it came to their adventures. And boy, were there a lot of them, spanning out against years and years. Whether or not Vriska held great confidence and accomplishment in her own abilities, which, naturally, she did, she would have to occasionally admit most of it would have been for naught, not to mention be incrediiiiiiiiibly boring, without the strange dweebish seadweller right there at her side.

 

They really did pair off a nice Dualscar and Mindfang. Scourages of the sea, enemies, but the closest combattants. Oh the ships they took by storm, the trolls they swept from the dregs of the sea to return home to walk the plank for their final au revoir. The last curtain, the final call. Their enemies always slept with the fishes, or rather, within tangled webs of an arachnid’s grip. There was no escape, not when it came to the duo reliving and reinventing their ancestors legacies.

 

It was often they spoke of their ancestors, the both of them. Dreamed, sought, berated in the f8 that swept the two together much the same as their descendants before them. There was some amount of lavishing surreality, a kind of intoxicating adoration, in how entangled the each became in the prospect of their dearly departed forebearers. The DNA still strong, the legacy still echoing through the ages even far past the duo’s fall. A mystery - the comet that had fallen so close, meant, specifically, for her hands, her eyes, her heart. And beside her, not so far away, a boy of another nature, another similar path of destruction and veracity - a friend and a foe, a martyr of wisdom and utter, dumb ass moping nerdy as fuck enthusiasm.

 

You always had to take the bad with the good though, or at least that was always the manner of what Vriska felt. No matter how hopeless, or annoying, or ridiculous, or utterly overbearing and insufferable at times, these things could be fixed. With time. With time, it was her undiluted strong hold of a belief that people could change, mature, grow into something so much more than they were now. Vriska saw potential - she saw what someone could be. Not who they were now. And in that strength she found her friends and foes, her strife in the peddled silken strands that tied her so closely with those she lamented as prospective companions.

 

Vriska had always known she would be something great. Something to tower above the rest, someone who would make as big of a splash on history as her beloved decedent, streaking flames into the pages of myth before her. She knew it like she knew the breadth and expanse of the  brazen stars, like she knew the wind at her hair, the dust that scattered at her feet. Yes, she may be in servitude now, she may be, beyond the small tedious forceful nature of the g8mes they played, an insect in the web of her lusus’s entangled web. But someday she would grow beyond it. Someday she would be worth looking up to, a chilling reminder of strength and prosperity - of power and reverence. Certainly a far cry more than she was now on this world of children, even with the name “Mindfang” etched across countless kid trolls’ lives. There was no LARPer in these seas, within this region, that did not shiver at the names “Dualscar” and “Mindfang.” The duo were just that good. And their ancestors bond - as well as their own - in Vriska’s oppinion, just that strong.

 

Vriska always prepared for the day Dualscar, or rather, Eridan, betrayed her. She knew well of Eridan’s heart to an extent, and knew too that his motives may turn dark in a similar nature to his forefather. But that wasn’t particularly an odd thing, even for two that considered themselves quite close. For Vriska, every man, woman and child was a potentiality of threat. No matter how close, rare if ever was it that Vriska Serket wasn’t one to underhandedly remark at the nature of troll kind. Betrayal was in their blood, their souls, their very beings and when it wasn’t right there in the spare of sight, it was lingering, lurking behind strained smiles and glittering friendly expressions. There was no one alive that wouldn’t strike if you were weak enough, take advantage if you fell on your back. No one that would survive in the long run, at any rate. Those who pitted about, scurrying against the weeds and scrambles of scraps in food and desire were in the end always left to fend for themselves. And eventually, they would die. To Vriska, they were barely even trolls at all. Just fodder waiting to be thrown into the vastness of the universe’s outstretched claws, to be quashed and served up as someone elses’ lunch. If you wanted to survive, you had to be quick, you had to be cunning, and most important of all - you had to be ruthless doing it. There was no time for pity. And to be honest, it wasn’t becoming of her. Or of Eridan.

 

It often worried her, the extent of his brutality. Often mingled, mixing strict in emotion that blinded him. Of course it worried her. It directly affected her, after all. When she could, she did her best to reign him in from any hint of meltdown or wreck. See his potential, even beyond that of his very ancestry who ultimately, in her eyes, failed his role in the long run. He made quick movements, too quick, too emotional, and paid the ultim8 price. Death. By her forebarer’s hands. Fitting, she felt, but also quite unnecessary. While she idolized her heroin with such reverence that fell beyond any norm of parent child relation as humans would perceive and understand, she felt her forebear never completely unlocked her full potential in the spindling webs between the souls and minds of those gathered around her. She didn’t put in enough time and patience, enough heart, so to speak, to be the one with the final, last laugh. And to be the one to change others. Not just for her own benefit, but for theirs.

 

As much of a patient, keen, cunning individual she was, as much as she lavished in understanding her role like that of a spider bearing down against her prey, there was a reality of compassion that beat sound in her seemingly ironclad heart. She was not without soul. She was not without understanding or desire for others to succeed either. While always at the ready to be betrayed, while elbows deep in the much of revenge and game, in her most fanciful of dreams, in her most wildest, secret of imagines, she held to a world so bright and beautiful and freeing that none but her could depict. That none but her could even begin to understand. Her thoughts of such a place, a place where she didn’t need to be the very strongest among them all, consistant in struggle and dominance, the unseen hand to strike fear and discord into the hearts of thousands; it was a place she settled in often times on her own when the games and the chess boards were put to rest, at the brink of night, when hauntings and whispers of Terezi came calm along the cavernous halls of her hive.

 

The walls echoed long and dark with their adventures, with her impact, with her blood sister’s belief. Justice. Vigilante. Heart. Kindness. Morality. It all washed under the tides of unreality, of dark, grimey depictions of what life really, truly was like. There was no kindness nor faith nor bright star in this dark soulless beacon of this world. Outside of fun games and trivial nonsense, no one could claim truth that once they came of age that anything but hardship and destruction awaited them. Many would die. Maybe even Terezi herself. In Vriska’s mind, in her turmoil and anger, she felt and knew more deeply than any of her “friends” seemed to possibly comprehend, that only death and despair waited those who weren’t readied for it. Readied to take it by the reins and ride it off against the conquest of their race. In her mind, it was her small knit group of “friends” who were playing the kiddie games in a much more vast tangle of web than they really had even begun to come to comprehend. In not some short amount of sweeps, their lives would change forever. And most likely she would never meet with many of them again. Being so far away, and as young as they were, it did seem like an eternity, a dreamscape that existed only in depiction of video and text, but she knew, deep down, it was also destiny. One that, just as assuredly as that of her lusus’s, could not be esc8ped. It could only be beaten. Won, underhanded or not, taken on with a force.

 

“hey vvris…. wwhat’s that”

 

The slight caution of words caused her pause from her riddling thoughts, her one good eye peering upward at the slope of a field that separated the both of them from her massive complex just off a cliffside. It was a trek she knew well, and one often filled to the brim with bark and musclebeasts alike, many of whom would lavish at the chance for a good meal. An anticipatory smile curled once more against those blue, vividly dark lips, robotic fingers already gently dipping in pocket for the smooth, reassuring feel of her dice. Eridan had yet to raise his weapon, but his posture was stiff, eyes slit narrowed into the dusk of the shadow and night.

 

Well. She could use a good beast off before heading to bed, it would give the both of them more practice, and even better, maybe even some meat for the night’s dinner table. Equius would be distraught, naturally (he always was), but what could a girl do when these beasts of nature came sniffing for a fight? When a fight was demanded, she always delivered. It was just in her nature and in her posture and in her legacy to survive and to do so with quite the flare.

 

At the hilltop, a murky figure approached. Difficult to make in the sway and morph of shadow; the dim splay of light from the orb like moons dangling far above in the sky shrouded too deeply in cloud to make anything significant out against the field before them. The shadow was relatively small, though even the smallest of beasts could prove to be the most deadly, riddled in venom and quick, flashing movements. You could never let your guard down, even in the smallest of creatures roaming the planet. Many recently pupated trolls and weaker of lussi fell prey quite easily to this, something Vriska, at a very younge age, had learned to ward off.

 

There was many a time when she was a young, recently pupated wriggler, in which Equius had stepped in to save her sorry butt. For many sweeps, she’d vowed never again. And here she was now, even the most horrific of beats simply causing a sneer to overcome her face, a twinkle of faint amusement. No more fear. Just anticipation.

 

“Hmmmm. I’m not sure! Let’s go have ourselves a look, shall we, Dualscar?” The toothy grin was met with a slight roll of the eyes, but she knew she had him. She always did. In the end, she was always able to drag Eridan into many, any really, of her wild escapades. Even the small insignificant ones. Or rather, maybe, particularly the small insignificant ones.

 

With the reposturing of the massive gun, simply far too large for such a wirey young seadweller, the two made their slow trek in the direction of the streaking shadow, meeting their foe dead on. It would be a sad day in hell when one Vriska Serket was not the predator in this march across the scape of land, and one she would never be quite ready to accept or face.

 

“be careful, ok vvris wwe really dont need to storm it” was the soft warning whispered beside her, those yellow beaded eyes still fixed against the swaying figure. Oh, Eridan. His concern would have been a little touching, it was, really, a little bit, if it wasn’t so particularly insulting. As if anything could catch the jump on her. She gave another flash of pearly whites before the young girl picked up her pace, feet padding harder against the solid dirt ground, a deeper glint reflecting almost manic in those pale reflective eyes. Eridan’s concern seemed to deepen somewhat, a mask of irritation mingling in the worry as the girl brazenly marched forward, the nest of swaying yellowed grass parting in her wake with a familiar rustling hush.

 

The creature did not falter, in fact, it simply continued its original heading in the same manner of pace and leniency; an odd behavior considering the clear, strict obvious nature of her stride. It was either brazen confidence or flat stupidity that plagued the poor creature that began to take shape before them in the falling dusk, Vriska’s palm cupping the pair of dice in pocket like her own particular brand of royal flush.

 

“goddammnit vvris, you dont need to just be brazenly bargin over just cause…” the words drowned out in muttered tandem as the figure before them became far more clear, Eridan padding slightly slower as the two of them came to take in the sight of a heavily wounded troll. Not even a beast at all. Azzure blue painted the cusps of his face and torso; gaze a distance of clear pain and regret. For some reason the figure, never faltering once in his forceful steps, seemed brazenly familiar. A spark of something from a long time ago, perhaps, that struck the girl as she too came to a slight slow, grin turning from that detached excitement instead to something far more curious and enticed. It meant no meat for her, but perhaps her lussus would have dinner tonight after all.

 

“HALT, lowly commoner!” With a swift flourish of movement, Vriska revealed her dice, not yet tossing them to the ground for attack. Not just yet. It was a game of wits, of play, and of course, of chance. She always gave her prey the chance to fight back. Always.

 

Eridan took to the cue, hefting his large and enticingly dangerous weapon in the troll’s shadowy direction. But those eyes, the regret, the sure fire stealing determination, never faltered even for a moment. They fixed at the pair of them and soon there was something rather dim, like a light going out, that reflected in those strange, enticingly familiar yellow eyes. Something so very familiar about them. So homey and strange. “My name is Mindfang. Woe is it that you c8me upon us tonight, young pupa fiend. I’m afr8id we m8y end up not 8eing a8le to allow you passage...” A smirk pooled like black ink against her still thickly yellow matted face, fangs bearing coyly in the wake of the newcomer’s stride. He did not halt. In fact, he did not stop at all. To her unpleasant disconcern, tears pooled at the edges of those dark eyes, a familiar sort of anger filling where once there was just dim, dull acceptance.

  
That’s what it had been.

 

It struck her in that moment, a moment of rare faltering uncertainty - it was that dead, cold clasp of torpid acceptance. The sort that sunk like ice to the marrow of your very bones, glistening and stiffening every beat of the heart. It was that which she had found so familiar, like a ghost of a very dear friend returning home once more to bid a restoration. These thoughts, the ones that struck her in these few sparse moments, would prove more true and resilient than even she could possibly predict.

 

In another moment the troll took pause. Eridan’s gun still trained, her gaze still studying the wreckage that was once this stranger’s face, before abruptly a hand gently pulled out from his jacket to reveal something small and black and almost indecipherable altogether in the dark gloom of night. It took a single second, a click of recognition, a second of Eridan’s shout, a moment of pause and beat for her own single eye to fall against the device before she really took stock of what it truly was.

 

A hand hit her shoulder without warning, grasping it hard. Arms wrapped around her, tight; a vibrant, earth shattering explosion bursting, flooding into life. Flames, sounds, images that she would later not recognize or understand revelled against her vision, taking root in her very being. The last moments of consciousness were spent, dazed and confused, staring at the limp and unmoving figure of Eridan, coupled, husked, over her, arms still wrapped tight even in unconsciousness. His gun lay somewhere distant, her ears rung deafeningly loud. And before she could take stock in surrounding or thought or emotion, the world began to ebb, fading slow and calm into the distinct cold reaches of thick unconscious.

 


End file.
